


Cigarette Burns

by HeavenLeah



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Blood, F/F, F/M, Fake AH Crew, GTA: AU, Inaccurate Medical Practices, M/M, Multi, Other, Reader-Insert, Serious Injuries, Slow Build, Underage Drinking, Underage Drug Use, Underage Sex, Very long
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-18
Updated: 2016-12-05
Packaged: 2018-05-14 19:38:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5755726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeavenLeah/pseuds/HeavenLeah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You’re a rarity, a legitimate business woman in Los Santos, with a fancy car and a closet full of suits to prove it. But your mile long contact list, affinity for high class liquor and expensive smokes rival that of a mob boss, and it makes many wonder are you really as legit as you make out? The question will finally be answered as your past catches up to you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hello

**Author's Note:**

> Currently the title is rubbish and might change if I think of something better.

You walk out of your apartment and onto your balcony, fingers rifling through a cheap packet of cigarettes and bringing one to your mouth. You pull your lighter out of your pocket, flipping it open easily before sparking it up and lighting the cigarette, dragging sweet nicotine into your lungs before puffing out a smoke cloud as you place your ass against the lounger cushion. 

With a frown, you cross one leg over the other and absent-mindedly flick the ash off as you close your eyes and let the evening sun warm your skin. Your feet burned from the heels you wore all day. You slide them off slowly and begin rubbing the foot that is elevated as you think over your day. 

It had been a long day for you, having to meet with several men, every single one of them being a prick who thinks he’s better than you just because you have breasts instead of balls. It’s always the same and no matter how often you experience it, their attitudes irritate you, but you admit to yourself that the expression change on their faces when they realise they can’t intimidate you makes it worthwhile. 

By now the cigarette dangles limp in between your fingers, smoke swirling in front of your face irritating your nose. Normally you don’t smoke cheap, but you had no time to update your stash and had to grab whatever you could find at the local store on your way home. 

Oh well at least your liquor was expensive, speaking of liquor.

There's a glass of whiskey on the small table beside you, the colours of the sunset dance within the liquid making it glow like amber. The city lights are slowly turning on and sirens are rhythmically puncture the dusky air. You smile to yourself when the sound hits your eardrums reminding you the city is alive and still kicking, you wouldn't change this place for all the money in the world. You breathe out slowly while opening your eyes, letting them roam over the city view before you, and pick up your glass before leaning back into the chair hoping to watch the remainder of the sunset and relax. 

You had just began to settle when a loud knocking comes from inside, but instead of moving you continue to sip on your drink, willing them to give up and walk away. Unfortunately as time goes on, the knocking just becomes louder and louder. 

Irritated that your peaceful Friday evening had been ruined you angrily stand up jamming your feet back into your shoes, and throw your lit cigarette off the balcony uncaring of who it could land on. You raise the glass in your hand up to your lips, and move your head back forcing the remaining whiskey down, ignoring the burn in your throat as you slam the glass down and storm off in the direction of your front door.

Your shoes rapidly clack across the hardwood flooring, the knocking is still happening and you have admit their persistence is impressive. You'd even shake their hand if it was at someone else's door. You shout as you cross the room “Calm down, for fuck sake, I'm on my way.”

The knocking finally ceases and as you pull the door open your heart drops. 

A man around your age but much taller than you was hunched over and breathing heavily, one hand pressing onto a rapidly forming blood stain on his side and the other hand, clutching a rubber mask, is resting up against the door frame for balance. He looks up and his blue eyes stand out against the backdrop of a bruised and bloodied face. Blood smears are covering the outside of your door from the knocking so you deduce that the hand now clutching his side was the one he hammered against the door with. Those marks are going to be hell to get out of the wood. 

Your mouth hangs open as you struggle to process the sight before you. It feels like you've seen a ghost.

He smirks when he sees your confusion. “Hello old friend...”


	2. Thanks For The Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Questions are asked, answers are shouted and frustration gets the best of both.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow... I actually have an update for you guys. Yay! lets hope it keeps up.

He walks slowly, entering into the lounge unaided, you don’t offer to help him because you know he wouldn't take it. Instead you fold your arms and stand watch by the front door as he moves over to your sofa and you inwardly thank yourself for purchasing dark leather. 

“Please, make yourself at home…” you don’t contain your sarcasm as you speak.

You close the front door and move into the apartment. The lounge and kitchen are in one large open plan space, accessed from the front door. Large windows covering the back wall, with doors leading to a balcony allow a view over the city and even the water if you squint hard enough. A hallway to the left housed the bedrooms and there was an office on the right. 

Before he even gives a response you walk off towards the kitchen area, looking for your medical kit you always had stashed away. You've not needed it in a long time but you never got rid of it because you liked knowing it was there just in case.

You walk over and head straight to the cupboard under the sink, you open the doors and reach your hand around behind an unused bottle of laundry soap and grab at the cold smooth plastic of the box. You get ready to leave and stand up but as an afterthought you decide to get something for his swelling, so you place the kit on the counter and turn to go into your freezer and grab a bag of frozen peas for his eye. 

You carry them both back to the lounge, by now he had shed his leather jacket and was beginning to remove his shirt. You walk up to him and gently lay a hand on his arm, you don’t want him injuring himself further. He lowers his shirt and looks at you as you shake your head. 

You didn't want him to open the wound further by making him raise his arms so you put the stuff in your hands onto your coffee table and grab a fistful of fabric in each hand before ripping his shirt off of his body, he doesn't even bother to complain about you destroying his clothing. 

You throw the bloodied half onto the floor, using the other half to wrap around the frozen bag. Once covered you hand it over to him with a muttered “for your eye.” He thanks you with a nod as you straighten your shirt and begin giving him instructions. You point at the sofa “Lie down, it’ll make it easier for both of us.”

As he goes to climb onto the sofa you rush over to the closet by the door to grab out some towels and you also grab a blanket thinking you could use either to prop him up or cover him whichever is needed. You walk back over to him and kneel down on the floor as he lies back and closes his eyes. You look over his face, watching for signs of discomfort as you begin to poke at his abdomen and look over his side wound, there's shoe print bruising and scrapes galore that you look over in case it's hiding a stab wound, you breathe a sigh of relief when you work out the source of the bleeding is something similar to a bad case of road rash. 

You’re not sure if you want to know how he actually got it though, usually the less you know the safer you are. 

The next thing you have to look for is any sign of internal bleeding from the kicking. You don’t like not having the correct equipment but you've done this check enough times to know how to eyeball it.

Once satisfied that it's nothing deadly, you turn away to look through the medical supplies, and choose this moment to ask the questions burning away at you “So Ryan…” it feels weird speaking the name after so long. It’s heavy and almost metallic on your tongue. “How did you find me?”

You pick up and soak a cotton pad with some form of medical alcohol, before placing it gingerly on his skin, beginning to clean the area. He winces from the sting but you continue on knowing he’d stop you if it got too bad.

“You don’t exactly hide away do you?” You pause and turn your head to look at him questioningly. He rolls his eyes before clarifying “Your face is all over the news, in papers and magazines hailed as the youngest business owner in the whole of Los Santos plus you’re a big user of social media. It was easy to track you down and find your home.” 

After cleaning you coat it in an antiseptic cream, running your fingers over his skin gently. Admittedly your fingers linger longer than they needed and you have to force yourself to pull away, but everyone is allowed a little weakness. You decide to place a dressing over the part near his waistband so it didn't get irritated, you leave him shirtless to let the air dry up the blood and move on to the gash in his eyebrow and the black eye that has now formed. He lowers the makeshift ice pack to allow you an unobstructed view. 

You scoff as you lean over. “Says you... The Man, the myth and the legend that they call the Mad Mercenary, seen by the city as untouchable, with some magazines going as far as to call you immortal, and the owner of a kill record larger than all of the members of the LSPD combined. Lead interrogator for the fakes, specialising in torture and quiet assassinations. Did I miss anything?”

He remains silent, letting you treat his wound, once finished with you throw your cleaning items onto the coffee table and begin to look in the box, for some of the stick on stitches you know you have. 

As you lean forward to lay one onto the cut over his eyebrow, bringing your faces together, you’re so close you can feel his breath against your lips. You bite out “But you and I both know that deep down, you’re just a runaway rich boy with a thing for playing dress up, driving fast cars and snorting coke.”

He chuckles which irritates you. “This is just like old times, you angrily berating and insulting me, while cleaning my wounds…” 

You cut him off “I'm too busy keeping your blood from getting on my furniture for nostalgia.” You turn away and go to get back onto the floor but he grabs at your wrist stopping you and making you look in his eyes.

He looks up at you and breathes out harshly before speaking up. “I missed you.” 

He looks and sounds like he’s telling the truth, and it should be a serious moment but you feel like you want to snap and laugh in his face. You really want to believe him but you can't allow yourself to.You pull your arm out of his grasp and look away. “Don’t do this…” Suddenly you don’t want to be near him so you walk over to your chair on the other side of the lounge and sit down. 

The both of you sit in silence.

After several minutes, you pull your legs up and place your chin on your knees. Your brows furrow as you scrutinise his face. “How long have you known where I am?” 

“A year ago was when I found out you were in the city, but it was only 8 weeks ago I learnt where you live.” You must have unknowingly given him a confused or weird look as he elaborates further, managing to answer your question without you asking it. “At first I didn't track you down” He sighs heavily before continuing “I thought I'd leave you to believe I was gone, convinced myself it would be easier for you.”

You can’t think of a response, you just nod. You need time to process it all and you’re feeling too many emotions right now that you’re beginning to feel numb. 

“How long have you known I was alive?”

You look down to your toes, willing away the memories of that day which have been flooding your mind on and off since you opened that door.

“I think…” you breathe deeply “It was around six months ago, you had just taken part in one of your biggest heists and your photo was on the news, for a long time I refused to let myself believe it could be you, but I just couldn't deny that they were your eyes I saw behind the mask.” 

He nods accepting your answer looking you straight in the eyes, and you feel like they're boring into your mind, reading your thoughts. “I suppose you'd like me to explain why I came knocking on your door tonight.” He lifts his legs off the sofa, and turns to sit facing you. “See there's something important that I'm involved with and... it concerns you.”

“If it's to pull me back into your world you can forget it.” You get up out of your seat and walk over towards your kitchen with the aim of getting a drink shouting behind you. “I gave that all up when I thought you were dead.” You can feel your frustration about being lied to bubbling. You quickly pour a glass of water and go back. 

As you walk towards him he looks at you and raises his hands in a mock surrender, eyeing up the glass in your hand. “I'm not going to try and convince you of anything but I am here to protect you, if you want it.”

“You've just taken a beating, how can you expect me to believe you can protect me, even if I needed it which I shouldn't, because I'm not involved in your life.” 

“You're not now, but you have been… we had a lot of enemies.” 

“5 freaking years ago!” You pace in front of the TV as you try not to let your emotions to make you crazy, it doesn't work. You begin to raise your voice. “I left that life to get away from danger.”

“Well it didn't work.”

His lack of an agreement with you sets you off, you begin screaming. “You left me to believe that I was the reason you were dead, you can't expect to just waltz into my life and I accept any excuse you give me.” 

He gives up remaining calm and shouts back at you. “This isn't a fucking excuse, you’re in real danger and so am I.” He quiets down and puts his head in his hands. “Only one group of people have ever gotten the jump on me before… you should remember.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if there's mistakes, I have to read it all over myself and I have had migraines for the past week. If you notice something that greatly affects it just kindly let me know in a comment :). Hopefully I will try to update once a week *crosses fingers*


	3. From Yesterday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit of background, memories filling in gaps about your past life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO SO SO SO SO SORRY FOR IT TAKING SO LONG GAHHH, I just didn't know what I wanted to do with it, and then when I wrote this chapter it took me forever not to offend people with stereotyping and then after that I felt bad because it was basically the same as the previous chapter. I SWEAR IT'S IMPORTANT TO THE PLOT!

*Around about 5 years and 7 months ago* 

You were incredibly tired, fighting the need for sleep in your small sitting room of your dingy house, pacing up and down on the worn carpet. The overhead lighting was harsh on your eyes, stinging every time you looked up from the floor, in the background the TV chattered away as you ignored it in favour of panicking while you spoke to yourself, trying not to think about what could be happening.

You keep telling yourself to calm down and emphasising that you’re being silly, every time your eyes keep flicking to the clock on the mantle of the fireplace. Whenever you saw the time change, even if it was just by a minute, felt like your heart sank further towards your stomach. 

It was past midnight and Ryan was meant to be home hours ago.

You couldn't understand why he wasn't home, it had just been a simple drug deal, he had done it hundreds of times before. 

With a shake of your head, you sigh, and decide pacing won't do anything but make you feel worse. You look down at your blackberry gripped tightly in your hand, shooting him one last “where are you, I'm worried?” text before sitting in front of the TV. 

Almost as soon as your body hits the cushions, the front door opens, you automatically turn around at the noise, to see who is walking in and almost bolt over the back of the sofa. 

Ryan shuffles into the room slowly, clutching one of his wrists tightly in the hand on his other side.

You stand up ready to run over to him. “What the hell happened to you?” 

He doesn't answer, just brings his eyes up to look at you as you move towards him carefully. 

The sight is even worse up close. Your jaw slackens, ready to fall open but you fight it, no need to stand and gawk at him like a fish when he’s in pain. His nose was off centre and his face was a marble of red, black and purple. 

You go to help him walk, but he waves you off. His hand remains up in order to keep you at a certain distance as he struggles to speak giving you a request. “Go and get the medical kit out of the bathroom.” 

You nod quickly and run off in the direction of your bathroom, opening up the cupboard you knew it was in and begin searching the second you get through the door. 

The panic and confusion you felt was fogging your brain, which made it more difficult for you to be able to focus, scared you were taking longer than expected you breathe harshly forcing yourself to calm down. You nod to yourself trying to give the air of determination and pull out what you came in for. 

You clumsily stumble over your own feet, walking back to the main living space, looking around trying to spot Ryan and find him slouched in the lonely arm chair, the coffee table pulled up in front. You shake your head at his behaviour and walk over, going to sit on the table. 

“You should have let me move the table…” You reach out to grab Ryan’s hand as you talk. Albeit rougher than you should have been.

He winces as you raise his hand into the light inspecting the damage. “So just because I'm injured means I can’t do stuff alone, sorry mother...”

You apply pressure, bending his wrist to check for any signs of a break. It surely hurt him but he put on a brave face barely squeaking . “Even when in pain...” You bend it back gently causing him to inhale sharply. You give him a look that says sorry before carrying on.“You can still find the strength to be sarcastic.” You place his wrist down satisfied with the results of your check and turn your body to get a bandage. “I'm impressed.”

Luckily his wrist is just sprained so you bandage it up quickly and clean up his other wounds. There's blood and scraped skin on his knuckles you have to watch out for during the bandage process. You make a mental note to clean the cuts after the bandaging to prevent any infection.

You gracelessly drop his hand down once finished and get to work setting his nose back in place. You pull a face as you go so close up to him, trying to at least cheer him up slightly. Thankfully you were a clumsy child so you’re no stranger to broken bones and how to fix them, just that they won’t be perfect any more. 

You line his nose up the best you can and splint it and wrap it in micropore tape and bandages. Once done you lean back to admire your handiwork “I’d say your good looks will survive but that would imply you had some in the first place. Your nose will be slightly off centre from now on though.”

He rolls his eyes and tentatively touches his face. “Not a bad nurse, but your bedside manners need some work.” 

You prod his uninjured shoulder. “Well then, you’re lucky you're not in a bed.” 

He chuckles the laughter irritating his ribs that appear to have been bruised, almost as fast as the noise started his eyes widened and he doubled over, his arm clutching his torso. He begins coughing and spluttering trying to control himself. 

“You should probably go to the hospital, I'm not a doctor there could be something severe I'm missing.”

“I can’t go… too dangerous, they could find me.”

Your shoulders sag and you can’t argue with him, but watching him in pain is upsetting for you. Your eyes soften with sympathy as you look him over and you reach out to take his freshly bandaged hand. 

You breathe out and ask quietly “Ry, who was it that did this to you?”

Ryan looks down at your intertwined hands. Embarrassed that he allowed himself to get attacked and injured. “He doesn't have a name.” Ryan pauses, struggling to take a breath making his words sound even more terrifying. “Doesn't have a face either… He’s known underground as the Emperor.”

You look at him with a puzzled look, the name wasn't one you had heard before. “Who?” 

“He’s basically the boss of the city, all the drugs and guns went through him, that is, until we got involved in the trade. But unlike us all his work is done by employing other people to do it for him.” 

“Okay, do you why did he got someone to attack you?”

It takes him a moment to answer you, he sits trying to put the words together before letting them come out of his mouth. “According to what I heard when they were arguing as I was on the ground, we've been creeping on his turf and he wants revenge.There’s meant to be a pretty big price on our heads.” 

You sigh and begin packing away the supplies. “So he just expects us to give up what we've been working so hard for?”

He nods “Pretty much.”

That does not sit well with you, you’re not a fan of intimidation tactics at all and things such as this enrage you and you have a tendency do stupid things when you’re angry. 

You breathe out before speaking. “Well then.” As you stand up the next words out of your mouth were basically a death sentence. “I guess we will have to prepare for war…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So thank you for putting up with me basically repeating myself for the sake of padding out this fic.
> 
> I already have the next chapter started so pray it won't take me over a month to update again. I am also very aware that the medical practices are probably wrong and bullshit, I'm not a doctor and never learnt anything about being one, it's purely fiction and for dramatic purposes. 
> 
> If you spot a mistake please feel free to kindly point it out to me so I can fix it ASAP


	4. Would I lie to you?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We finally dip our toes into the action of the "series".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This had basically been finished for over a week, but I just could not stop myself from editing it. I am forcing myself to post it now or it'll never be done.

You sigh as your head falls back against the crisp leather, eyes closing slowly and you begin inhaling the comforting scent of the material mixed with the air freshener. Your assistant is chatting away beside you, going on about things you really couldn't care about in that moment when all you want is 5 minutes of peace. 

By now it had been several weeks since your visit from the “ghost” and you were beginning to forget about it and finally allowing yourself to relax again. You had decided not to accept Ryan's help, and the next morning, once he was rested you were practically pushing him out of the door audibly refusing to believe him. 

You just couldn't allow yourself to believe him even if you wanted to, there was too much at stake and you had spent too long running away and hiding to lose it all now. You needed to focus on the life you have been building for yourself.

Even though you’re finally calm again, since his visit you have repeatedly been asking yourself, how could you be in danger? You've been perfectly safe for the past 5 years. 

You’re of the knowledge that you've watched your back alone long enough to be good at it, you've kept yourself safe using all means necessary without any help.

So why should it all change now? 

Then again… you were always too stubborn and independent for your own good.

You pull your head up as your thoughts draw to a close, and your driver pulls up in front of an imposing skyscraper, the glass windows glaring at you in the sunlight. It was the headquarters of a major international hotel chain, you were about to meet the owner, with the intention to strike a deal with him. 

It was quite high profile and that meant that security staff were all over the place. This had caused several passers-by to slow down and watch what's happening making the crowd larger than you're used to.

You breathe in and out before you open the car door and spin your body around to exit. Your shoes hit stone and you plant your feet steadily as you pull your body forwards. You use the car door for extra balance. You assistant by now has made their way out and have hurried around the car to be at your side ready. 

As you straighten up your stance, a shot rings out and as a panicked reaction you rapidly drop your body to the floor hoping the action would prevent a bullet from hitting you in the head. There's a sudden rush of screaming and panic in the air fighting with the sounds of blood rushing attacking your ears, which you really don't want to deal with. 

The gritty pieces of the ground stab against your skin as your head swims in the lack of oxygen you are experiencing, as your chest tightens and your breathing becomes difficult. 

You swallow a lump in your throat and turn your head looking to your left, and notice that your assistant had been the one to get shot. Their face was half buried into the concrete and tarmac, and the one eye you can see poking out underneath the car door stared back at you glazed over and empty, the sight will haunt you for months if not years. Guilt, Grief and regret all cascade through you and you are motionless watching their blood pool beside you. It slowly spreading out, catching in the grooves of your skin and clinging to you. It's still warm to the touch and you cringe as you feel it drying on you. 

After several long moments you slowly try and pull yourself up to stand, wobbling slightly, hands land all over your body, grasping at your arms and pushing upon your shoulders, trying to steer you into a certain direction, you were in so much shock you don’t even fight it and let them. You’re quickly moved away from the scene by event security and from there you’re escorted to the local police station by several officers. 

You take one last glance behind you hoping to see them but by now several officials had crowded around trying to hide the body from public view. You bow your head and proceed on moving to the police car. 

In the station you are subjected to intense questioning, about who might have done this, why they did it, and any reasons why someone would have targeted your assistant or yourself.

After that you had to provide them with a list of your possible enemies, and people who work for you. You had to be meticulous with the details, both the ones you provide and the ones you leave out. After all you had many secrets to keep. 

The police knew you were keeping something back, they made no attempts to hide that they wanted more out of you but you just kept quiet, not even asking for a lawyer to prove your innocence. It was a long process and by hour 3 you grew bored of the “This is for your safety” and “we’re doing everything we can but we need you to help us.” statements. 

Several hours after entering the old building, even though you couldn't track the time inside you knew just because of the sight of the sun setting as you opened the door, and you can finally get a cab home, you've had enough drama and you just want to feel clean again. You walk out of the police station, busy emptying and re-filling your bag with your belongings while you look for some gum to remove the bitter taste of bad coffee from your mouth. 

You’re swarmed as you exit through the second set of door by reporters and paparazzi, they crowd around you shouting questions, you just raise your hand up at them, ignoring their questions and staying silent as you keep walking down the steps. At the exact moment when you reach the bottom of the steps and step onto the street your phone buzzes, you look around to see if someone was watching you before pulling out your phone. You unlock it and notice that you have received a message from an unknown number, you were cautious as you opened it and you knew who it was from the second you read it. 

“I told you so.”  
You don't bother to reply to the message, instead you just shake your head and throw the phone into your bag before making your way home.

The journey is short but in your state, it feels like forever. You rush through the lobby to the elevator, pressing the button to your floor and praying it doesn't have to stop, you really don’t want to have to explain anything to your neighbours. 

The elevator makes no stops and you're quickly on the top floor, breathing a sigh of relief you rush to unlock the door and as soon as you walk through, you throw your stuff to the side and make a beeline to the bathroom. You reach into your shower and turn the water as high as you could bare before you strip off quickly, desperate to cleanse yourself of the blood and street grime on your skin.

You feel better when you step out onto the mat on the floor, and twist your hair into a towel. You then reach to the bathrobe on the back of the bathroom door and as you wrap the robe around yourself there's a knock at your door. You sigh for what feels like the millionth time that day and walk out of your bedroom to go answer. 

You already had an inkling of who it is. 

You open the door and without even bothering to look at him you step to the side “Came to gloat?”

Ryan steps over the threshold without needing to ask permission. As he walks over to the lounge area he talks. “No. I came here, to see if you were okay.”

You close the door and make yourself look up at his face and walk over to him. “Seeing as you’re talking to me right now you should be well aware, that I wasn't the one who got shot. I am fine.”

He looks at you, his eyes boring into yours. “Don’t lie to me…”

“I really have to tell you again?” You huff in annoyance. “I'm not the one who got hit… I am fine now and I will be fine later. Now if you don’t mind I was in the middle of getting dressed.” 

You walk off and leave him to his own devices as you head down the hallway towards your room, shrugging the robe off as you go. You had nothing to hide and didn't really care if he saw you naked. You felt his eyes on you the minute your shoulder was exposed and you doubt that he looked away. It lands on the floor as you walk through the door into your bedroom.

Once inside you quickly grab a couple of items out of your closet and drawers and throw them on, not really caring how you look. You end up pulling out an oversized black t-shirt and some worn pyjama pants, your skin is still damp and you forgo a bra, deciding that it is too much hassle to try and wrangle one of those on. 

He’s made himself comfortable by the time you return. His feet were up on the coffee table, a drink beside his feet, and in his hand, he had the remote for your TV. He was watching some dumb cartoon and you just pause for a second thinking to yourself “Some things never change” 

You continue moving and go to sit down beside him. Leaving ample room between your bodies. “What are you doing?” 

His eyes don’t leave the screen as he replies. Instead he stretches and makes himself look even more comfortable. “I'm staying here, until you tell me the truth.” 

You turn to him angry, your eyebrows becoming animated as you talk. “Why are you insisting there’s something wrong?” 

He finally looks at you. His voice is almost pleading while still sounding annoyed. “Because I know you.” 

The conversation ends there and you curl your legs up and begin watching what’s on the television in front of you. 

It was some time later and you had wallowed inwardly while Ryan sat silently beside you, the both of you only speaking up when he was refusing to give up his control over the remote and you were demanding it back. You sigh and lean forward. When you begin to talk you don’t look at him, you just look straight ahead. “They didn't deserve to get shot…” your fingers are clasped together in between your knees, twiddling thumbs running over your skin. “This is my fault”

He turns to you and whispers your name, drawing your attention to him. His voice is gentle and his touch delicate when he reaches out in an attempt to comfort you. “This is not your fault.”

Your breath catches and suddenly it feels like time stops, you become overwhelmed, it feels too much like old times and you don’t know how to react. Your eyes widen before you turn yourself away from him. “Don’t….” 

He makes a noise you can’t describe, and shakes his head before he grabs hold of your arm, standing you up and turning you around quickly, then marching you to the door. 

You let him guide you but still put up some resistance as you shout. “Where the hell are you taking me?” 

“I'm taking you to see the crew.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to all of you lovely readers who have stuck with me, please feel free to comment with suggestions or questions or even compliments if you have any. I don't bite :). If you spot anything wrong that I missed please feel free to let me know it'll help me improve. 
> 
> Happy Easter to you all also.


	5. The Meeting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this isn't the best but I needed to get it out into the world so I can continue, or I'd be sat here rewriting it for the next month. xD

You suppress a shiver as water drips down your back from your still damp hair and goosebumps prickle up all over your skin. You’re sat alone in a room, your elbows resting upon a cold metal table. There’s a low hum dancing against your eardrums from the fluorescent lighting overhead. 

There was a white board hung on the wall in front of you covered in handwriting that looked like a spider had crawled all over it. You squint at it, trying to make the symbols become readable words and numbers. Beside the board there was a map of the city covered in post-its and sharpie scribbles, all of that you recognised as normal planning methods what confused you was that there was a series of selfies containing a man in garish gold sunglasses taped up around it all. 

You sigh, bored of waiting and rest your head on one of your hands, the other one moving to tap your crisp manicured nails against the metal while you wait alone in the room. 

Nerves begin bubbling inside of you and you try hard to get them to still, you’ve been in this life before so you’re able to adjust to the atmosphere of the place, full of secrets and muttered words no one from the outside should ever hear, but still you’re worried, for all you know this could be an elaborate trap.

When you arrived at the penthouse Ryan had pushed you through the door of the room ordering you to stay inside, while he went to collect the rest of the crew to meet you. It felt a bit like an extra dangerous “meet the parents” scenario. 

After being left to wait for what felt like hours the door finally opens. You turn your head to see Ryan sliding in through the gap. 

He comes to sit beside you. “They’ll be in here soon.”

You nod and prepare yourself for what’s to come, a series of questions, plans and revelations. A barrage of information that would rival a power point by the annoying overachiever everyone knows.

The door opens for a second time and several of the crew members file in, the man with the gold glasses from the selfies, a curly haired man in a leather jacket emblazoned with a Wolf and a short young lad wearing a cowboy hat. Ryan leans over, whispering their names in your ear as they walk in. You knew the names and you knew the faces but you had never made a connection before so his help was appreciated. 

They all looked worn out and were rubbing their eyes as they walked through the door, lethargic in their movements and you began to wonder how late it was. You internally cursed yourself for not wearing a watch, generally opting to just use your phone for the time, but of course that was in your handbag at home.

Jack and Geoff are the next and final people to walk in. Jack hurries into one of the spare chairs while Geoff strides over to the front of the table, facing everyone.

“Alright losers” He claps his hands together garnering attention. He looks around the room while he continues talking. “We have a problem that we need to control.” 

You look around, seeing the confused faces on most of the guys, you wonder if it’s because of you or because of what Geoff is talking about.

“We need figure out who was dumb enough to use a sniper rifle without a silencer yet smart enough to get away with it.” 

A light pings in your head, beckoning you back to a past life. You look to your side, wanting to see if someone else recognised the MO. It didn’t look like anyone did so you decide not to speak up, wanting to confirm your theory before you bring that drama up. 

This sounded like things they could do without you. You frown and go to open your mouth, ready to ask why you were even brought here in the first place. 

A gruff voice pipes up, you don’t really bother to check who it was, just wanting answers to your own questions right now, but you guess it was either Michael or Jeremy. “But why is she here?” 

Geoff smiles before replying to the question. He gestures towards you while he talks. “She's the one who can lead us to them, having nearly been shot in the head.” He turns to write something on the whiteboard and continues talking, his voice muffled slightly by being turned away. 

“We watch her, try and figure out her enemies and we will find out who it is.” The pen hitting the whiteboard punctuated his sentence, both spoken and written. 

You nod, making sure that to anyone who may be watching, it looked like you’re listening intently. The nerves and confusion you’d been feeling begins to ebb away, as it slowly begins to make some sense to you. 

As the meeting goes on, time whirls around in a blur of questions, answers, shouting, plans, secrets and something about “bevvy’s” whatever they were. You were getting tired now and you had begun zoning out on and off, wanting nothing more than for this to be over with. You rest your head on your hand as you wait. 

“You” Geoff points at you as he talks, snapping you back to attention. “according to the outside world you are going to carry on your day job for now acting as normal as possible, albeit with increased security. We have a contact at the paper and will set up an interview to make it look all official.”

You fold your arms and look him in the eye challenging him, you never liked listening to others. “I feel a but coming...” 

You can tell he purposely avoided saying the word as he continued talking. “You are not to get involved with anyone or anything without us vetting it first, that means business deals, donors, potential partnerships and even relationships.” 

You sit back, mentally agreeing with what he has said, not wanting to say it out loud, so instead you rely on sarcasm. “You won't have to worry about that last point, if you're not aware most people don't like a successful woman.” 

He’s thrown off for a moment and looks at you, you can almost see him string together a response. He turns his head and claps his hands together looking at other members of the room. “Either way… we do research for you now.”

You nod. “Alright, but what about the security?” 

Geoff smiles. “First step is, you’re getting a new assistant. Our very own Lindsay Jones, she’s currently not here but you’ll get to meet her at your office first thing tomorrow.” 

“What?!” Michael suddenly cries out before you could say anything about the matter. “I can't let that happen, what if she gets shot at again?” 

Geoff turns towards the source of the noise. “Michael, you’ll have to argue with your wife, she’s already volunteered and she is well aware of the dangers.”

Michael backs down but you can see him out of the corner of your eye, arms crossed and his face set into a glare, quietly seething. You suddenly feel uncomfortable and want to get out of there. 

Geoff has gone back to talking “The second part of the security plan still needs some ironing out. I need to talk to Ryan and Jack before we decide. So if the pair of them could please stay back the rest of you are free to leave.” 

You pull yourself up and out of your seat, half expecting to be told to stop and stay but when that didn’t come you went to the door and out into the rest of the penthouse. You need to get outside, but you know the front door out of here is out of the question, their security is too tight. You’d have to wait until Ryan is finished to even humor the notion of getting to go home. 

You hunt down one of the kinder looking members of the crew who had been let out, hoping to ask them where to go. You come across Jeremy in the kitchen who looks up and smiles at you. Your shoulders sink with relief that you weren’t going to end up in a sudden shouting match. 

Jeremy kindly points you in the direction of the hidden door to the rooftop when you asked him if there was somewhere you could go and get some air. You follow his instructions, thanking him cheerfully over your shoulder. 

10 minutes later you find yourself, relaxed and leaning against the rails of their private helipad, wishing you had some of your stuff with you. You’re beginning to miss your phone, and the secret pack of cigarettes you hid for when times got tough. You sigh and focus on watching the clouds move over the sky wishing on the stars, no stars are visible due to light pollution, but you know they are there.

Someone comes up behind you and you jump, turning around rapidly. Your eyes land on Gavin and you stare at him with wide eyes for a moment. 

He cocks his head and asks “Sorry love, did I disturb you?” 

Even you have to admit to yourself, there’s something intriguing about a British accent, and the body holding it wasn’t too bad either. 

You look him up and down a moment before looking back up to him and blinking to clear your mind. “No it’s fine, I just didn’t expect anyone to come up here.”

He pauses, his handle still on the door leading back inside. “Oh do you want to be alone? I can go back inside if you like.” He gestures over his shoulder and smiles at you, obviously hoping you won’t send him away. 

You shake your head, smiling at him as you respond. “No, stay, I think I’d like the company right now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, as always if there's any mistakes feel free to kindly let me know and all comments are replied to and appreciated <3


	6. And The First String is Attached

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the morning after the hassle and the puppet strings are beginning to get attached. Will you follow the instructions handed to you or will you do your own thing?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well.... It's been several months. Almost a new year and I finally get around to posting this, I spent forever hating it. rewriting it and just giving up altogether. I have now finally just decided I am being too hard on myself and to post it. 
> 
> Sorry to everyone who was waiting for this for ages.

The morning after the drama, you wake up to a loud knocking on your front door. Your heavy eyes flutter open and you stretch your limbs lazily, quietly groaning in frustration before you pull yourself out of bed and go to see who it is. As you sadly pull your limbs out from the warmth of the covers and sit on the edge of your bed, willing yourself to wake up you glance at the clock that sits beside your bed, the early hour making you groan for the second time in less than 2 minutes. 

 

Your sleep shirt rises up your torso as you move your hand through your hair. The still air is cool and goosebumps tingle all over your body. You walk through the apartment your bare feet making no noise as you move over the cold wooden floor. 

 

Ryan is sleeping on the sofa since you’ve been put under protection, you don’t believe you need it and that the crew are overreacting. You glare at him as he snores loudly, blissfully unaware that there’s a visitor. 

 

There’s a second knock making Ryan disturb, snorting as he turns over, his back now facing you. His shirt is halfway up his rib cage, leather jacket discarded and crumpled on the floor. Bruising and scars litter his skin and you wince thinking about all the pain he's been through, partially blaming yourself. 

 

You resist the urge to go over and do something to fuck with him, and go to open your door instead. 

 

“Mornin’” Gavin is stood there, sunglasses perched on his head and looking wide awake with a grin on his face. He raises his hands as he sees you and you notice a paper bag and a drinks carrier in them. 

 

“I’ve brought you guys breakfast.” 

 

You step back opening up your door as a silent offer to come in. You smile and say a polite “Thanks.” 

 

Gavin grins even harder as he lowers his arms and walks in past you. 

 

“Just go put the stuff in the kitchen, hopefully the scent of coffee will wake up the useless lump on my couch.” you weren't originally planning on making the joke, the words just tumbled out of your mouth easily.

 

Gavin chuckles as he continues walking and then you hear a muffled cry of “I’m not useless” coming from Ryan. 

 

You roll your eyes as you go over to the kitchen counter and begin unloading the bags and cartons.

 

You pour the coffee into proper cups and plate the breakfasts up, making everything look nice. Gavin kindly attempts to help you out before you tell him off. “No. You’re a guest here.” 

 

He doesn’t argue back, just sighs as he pulls out a stool and sits himself down, cradling a cup of coffee in his hands. Once finished you go to sit down opposite him and drag a plate over to you. 

 

As you raise the first bite to your mouth there’s a sound of feet in the doorway and Ryan walks in ruffling his sleep mussed hair. 

 

He speaks while yawning. “I can smell coffee.”

 

You point to the cups on the side “Gavin was kind enough to bring some over.” 

 

Ryan walks over and grabs a cup. “Thanks Gav.” 

 

“Now I didn’t just do it out of kindness.” Gavin puts his cup down. “I also came here to explain that you have a meeting with the reporter Geoff mentioned.”

 

“Already?” You pause a second, gathering your thoughts together. “that was fast I don’t even remember most of what happened.”

 

Ryan places a large hand on your shoulder, looking at you softly. You think you saw Gavin with a glimmer of suspicion out of the corner of your eye. “No, but the feelings are still fresh.”

 

You shrug Ryan’s hand off and struggle to hide your panic, you know that you need to do it, you would have done it whether a criminal mastermind asked you or not as it was a good way to stand up and say a metaphorical “fuck you” to the person who shot your friend. He has a point too, while you can’t describe everything that happened you can still feel how your heart leapt out of your chest and how difficult it was to breathe. How it felt like your flesh was stabbed by a thousand tiny knives because the road grit was so sharp.

 

You sigh and you nod. “Okay, what do I need to know beforehand?” 

 

“Oh she’s lovely…” and from there Gavin rattles off facts and opinions at an alarming rate.

 

You lean your arms forward against the kitchen counter and your eyelids droop as you try to follow what Gavin is talking about. He’s talking exceptionally fast for someone awake so early in the morning. He speaks highly of this reporter, making you wonder if there’s something between them, you’re sure he likes her. 

 

“You’ll be meeting her at the coffee shop near your building, meaning that you can go straight into work and meet Lindsay right after.”


End file.
